


Maybe We're Been Going About This All Wrong

by HMSquared



Category: Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: Assassination, Awkward Flirting, Canon Related, Crack Treated Seriously, Explosions, Guns, M/M, Major Character Injury, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMSquared/pseuds/HMSquared
Summary: Mark Faba will not die, and it breaks Agent 47. Which drives Lucas crazy.
Relationships: Lucas Grey/Mark Faba
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Maybe We're Been Going About This All Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sean Bean, and I love Lucas. Thus, this happened.

Mark Faba sat on his private jet, the contents of a manila folder splayed out in front of him. His surgically repaired right eye rapidly blinked as he read.

The last week had been an interesting one. A man contacted him, claiming to have information on the bald assassin. You know, the one responsible for two pens to Faba’s eye. He wouldn’t give his name, but agreed to an in-person meeting. How mysterious.

Miami was a second home by now. Getting off the plane, Faba picked up his suitcases and checked his watch. Just enough time for lunch.

He stopped at a stand for some dried coconut. Chewing, Faba headed up to his office. His hands unconsciously shook.

A pink chicken (or was it a parrot?) passed him on its way to the racetrack. The doors to Faba Accounting swung open, sunlight bouncing off the glass. Faba took the private elevator up, watching as the street fell below him.

“Sir?” His receptionist Nancy was at her desk with a worried expression. Faba’s eyes widened.

“He’s here already?”

“Showed up ten minutes ago. Insisted on waiting for you.” Nodding, he walked to the main conference room. This whole thing was getting more and more intriguing.

“May I help you, sir?” Faba pushed the doors open and jumped. His newest possible client was hiding in the shadows.

Upon closer examination, he was younger than Faba, but not by much. The man’s jacket was nice but cheap, his hands folded into the pockets. Graying hair complemented a pair of piercing silver eyes.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good.” He was British! Stunned and confounded by his guest, Faba took a seat.

“What do I call you?”

“Lucas is fine.”

“Alright, Lucas.” Faba tented his fingers. “Now, what’s this about?”

“The attempts on your life.” Lucas watched him twitch from his standing position. “I know who is behind them.”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s a private man. All you need to know is...well, you’ve driven him crazy.” Something flashed in Lucas’ eyes; simple emphasis, maybe? Faba nearly licked his lips, the suspense and intrigue killing him.

“Finally lost his marbles?”

“Something like that.” Lucas moved around the table to stand in front of Faba. The blonde’s nose wrinkled: he smelled really good. “Now, he doesn’t know I’m here. We can use that in our favor.”

“‘We’?”

“You’re an assassin who’s almost as good as him. I’ve known him for a very long time. Together…” Lucas leaned forward, glaring. “ _ We  _ could take him down for good.” Faba nodded.

“How much?”

“Sorry?”

“How much do you need?” After a moment, Lucas’ finger found his shirt. Thankful the windows were tinted, Faba nodded.

“You’re wearing a vest.” He didn’t sound surprised.

“After two murder attempts, you get paranoid.” Lucas nodded, getting closer and closer to Faba. Their noses were almost touching.

He opened his mouth hopefully. Then a wet gurgle escaped Faba as the bullet pierced his temple.

He crashed to the ground. Lucas kneeled, unbuttoned the twitching Faba’s shirt, and removed the bulletproof vest. Then, checking the silencer, he unloaded a full clip into the assassin’s chest. Followed by another one for good measure.

No, that wasn’t good enough. Straightening up, Lucas checked the briefcase. Inside were a pen and rubber ducky. He took both.

The pen was jammed into Faba’s repaired eye, the ducky his mouth. Pulling one of 47’s Silverballers from his pocket, Lucas kneeled again. Pressing the barrel right between the eyes, he pulled the trigger. Another round of casings hit the floor.

Nancy looked up at the sound of footsteps. A few specs of blood dotted Lucas’ face. She blanched but didn’t ask questions.

“You might want to leave.” His voice was firm. Nodding, she followed him outside.

As soon as the elevator deposited them on the ground floor, the rubber ducky exploded.

Lucas walked to a coffee shop and sat down. His phone buzzed.

“Did you meet with him?”

“He’s already gone, 47.” The bald assassin exhaled. “Were you actually worried about me?”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back.” Lucas actually smiled.

“He won’t, my friend. He won’t.”


End file.
